


Blocked

by gardnerhill



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, M/M, Writer's Block, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are all kinds of blocking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blocked

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2014 JWP Practice Prompt **#6: Writer’s Block.** Parts of this story are lifted directly from the ACD novel “A Study in Scarlet.”

_In height he was rather over six feet, and so excessively lean that he seemed to be considerably taller. His mouth was a firm, thin line that never wavered save when it covered my own mouth, and –_

Scratch.

_His eyes were sharp and piercing, a shrewd grey in which intelligence glowed like a banked fire, a sight that never failed to make my heart beat faster and stir my nether –_

Scratch.

_His hands – dear God his hands –_

Scratch.

_His voice held the clear deep ring of authority. Any red-blooded man who could fail to fall to his knees at his every command –_

SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH.

I groaned in frustrated amusement. My manuscript resembled a zebra.

A touch of those thin lips on the top of my head. A crooked finger from those beautiful hands stroking my cheek and teasing my moustache. That masterful voice, doing what it always did to my flesh even rich with amusement as now.

“Trouble with the writing, my boy?”

I laughed ruefully and laid down my pen, kissing the hand that lingered on my cheek. “I’m having the devil’s own time describing you without getting us both arrested, my dear.”

He laughed as well, another sound that pierced me straight to the heart and groin. “It seems your devil is adding his tuppence to the conversation. I’ll silence the rogue for you.”

He pushed my writing chair away from my desk. His tall, lean frame knelt in supplication before me. His piercing grey eyes glowed with an unholy light. His strong, clever hands made short work of my flies. And his mouth –

 _– save when it covered my own mouth, and when it took my_ membrum virile _into its keeping,_ my unsolicited writing partner cried out in one last victory before Sherlock Holmes muzzled the beast.  



End file.
